Dear Sans, Love Paps
by Vitalani
Summary: "Dear Sans, I forgive you. I knew you were lying to me. Your mouth lied when it said 'maybe tomorrow' over and over. Your hands lied when they fed me useless headache tonic. But your eyes told the truth when they looked at me and saw a broken, dying skeleton where your brother used to be. Your eyes told the truth, and I forgive you."
1. I Forgive You

AN: Well, let's get straight to it. I wrote this a long time ago, when I didn't have an awesome grasp of Sans' and Papyrus' personalities or things like how their magic works (I'm well aware by now that Sans isn't straight-up telekinetic, please don't flame me) so if they seem OOC, I'm sorry in advance, but I did try to rewrite the story to make it a little more in-character and almost completely butchered what I'd created. It wasn't worth polishing all the impurities out for the sake of canon-perfect characters and settings. Haven't quite had the courage to post it for that reason, but the subject matter has become very relevant to me lately. It's close to the bone, as it were. Hehehe... Heh.

This is set post-pacifist-run, after Monsterkind has relocated to the surface.

~!~

 _[I Forgive You]_

 _Dear Sans,_

 _I forgive you._

 _I knew you were lying to me. Your mouth lied when it said 'maybe tomorrow' over and over. Your hands lied when they fed me useless headache tonic. But your eyes told the truth when they looked at me and saw a broken, dying skeleton where your brother used to be._

 _Your eyes told the truth, and I forgive you._

~!~

The room spun as Papyrus sat up, and he grabbed at the edge of the mattress to steady himself. Odd. Was he coming down with something? He hoped not. He couldn't bear to miss out on the picnic, they'd been planning it for weeks.

"SANS!" He called as he got to his feet. More spinning, for some reason he felt the urge to vomit, but it only lasted a few seconds and then his head cleared. "SANS!"

"i said 'what'?" His brother complained from the room across the hallway. Papyrus frowned at the wall in confusion. He hadn't _heard_ Sans speak. Maybe he _was_ sick. He was dizzy and nauseous and aparrently deaf for a moment too. Had he got the flu, maybe? Damn.

He couldn't let on to Sans that he was sick, though.

"SANS!" Papyrus called a third time, crossing the room and picking his clothes out of the wardrobe and drawers.

"what?!"

Papyrus smiled at the peeved tone of his brother's voice. Sans did hate being woken early in the morning.

"SANS!" He called yet again, pulling his favourite pair of dark-blue jeans and a grey turtle-neck sweater on. There was a low groan of annoyance from Sans, then a light thump, then stomping sounds. Papyrus sat on the end of his bed to zip up his scarlet boots, and he slipped the crimson gloves Sans had given him for Christmas onto his hands. "SANS!"

"i. said. what?!" Sans shouted at him from his own bedroom doorway. Papyrus could almost _see_ the steam rising from his exasperated brother's skull, and he looped his scarf around his neck, stood, and grinned at the shorter skeleton.

"GOOD MORNING!"

It was a wonder bones hadn't started flying across the room at him.

"really, paps?" Sans huffed with a roll of his eyelights, immediately turning and shuffling back to his room.

Papyrus' smile faded, and he pressed his fingertips to his temples, fighting back the headache which had decided to settle behind his eyes. He couldn't let on that he was sick.

~!~

AN: By the way, yes, it's short. Unlike a certain other story of mine which has persisted in the realm of "not dead or abandoned but not quite alive", this is actually a finished piece of work, and I'll be uploading a new chapter every second day over the course of a week. Stay tuned for the next one.


	2. I Knew

AN: So... Time for the second chapter. I don't know why I said "every second day", I wanted to upload chapter 2 so badly yesterday. Heh. More notes at the end of the chapter, if anyone's interested. Reviews would be much appreciated, if you, dear reader, happen to feel like leaving one for me.

~!~

 _[I Knew]_

 _I hope you can forgive me. I didn't want you to worry._

 _But I knew I was sick, and I knew I wasn't going to get better._

 _You watched me all day, that day at the park. You were pretending to have fun, you let yourself get talked into snowball fights and you did magic tricks for the little ones, but you barely took your eyes off me. You kept finding excuses to return to my side. I felt your magic trying to heal me each time you were near, staving off the coughing and the fever, and it helped me get through the day._

 _It was never going to be enough and we both knew it._

 _I just didn't want you to worry._

~!~

He had to grab at the doorframe when they finally made it home, overtaken by a coughing fit that left him swaying. Papyrus was quick to hide his handkerchief in his pocket so Sans wouldn't notice the thin, watery ichor he was spitting up, though.

"you should've stayed home, bro." Sans told him, frowning.

"NONSENSE." Papyrus smiled back at him, striding inside. His own voice made his headache throb, however, and he tried to speak a little quieter. "A little cold could never keep me from spending a whole day at the park with my brother and my friends!"

"a little cold? my left _patella_ , paps, there's no way it's just 'a little cold'. go to bed. you're sick." Sans ordered, and there was a hard note of finality in his voice. He wouldn't tolerate argument.

Not that Papyrus had the energy for it anyway.

"Fine! Fine! If it will make you happy, brother, I will." He spun and gave a dramatic bow, then laughed as he turned and continued into the hallway. When he reached his room, he shut the door and hurriedly changed back into his pyjamas, grateful for the light cotton fabric which was so much cooler than the denim and wool he'd been sweltering in all day. In seconds, though, he was shivering, and he barely managed to drop his clothes in the hamper and stumble to his bed, shaking as he finally dragged the heavy quilts over himself. A little while later the door opened and Sans came in, carrying a tray bearing cutlery and a bowl of steaming-hot soup.

"hey." He said as he placed the tray on the bedside table. His tone was softer than before, and he didn't manage to meet Papyrus' gaze. "sorry. i didn't mean to snap at you."

"I know." Papyrus smiled for his benefit, pushing one hand out from under the covers and laying it on Sans' shoulder. His brother looked up, and Papyrus pulled him into a one-armed hug.

"made you some soup." Sans said needlessly when he stepped back.

"Thank you, Sans." Papyrus made himself sit up, and moved the tray onto his lap. Just looking at it made him want to throw up, but he picked the spoon up anyway. "Do you have any plans for tomorrow?" Papyrus asked him as Sans started towards the door again.

"i'm gonna spend all day in bed, since _someone_ dragged me out of the house _today_." Sans teased him, grinning over his shoulder at Papyrus. "but i'll let you make it up to me, bro, _you_ can hang all the washing out in the morning." He added, grabbing the laundry hamper and dragging it out of the room after himself.

~!~

AN: I guess this story is both catharsis and a form of confession for me. A lot has been going on over the last few years in my life. I'm finally seeing a psychologist who has determined that I have Autism Spectrum Disorder... Well, there's no 'magic pill' that's gonna make that go away, but hey, an explanation for why I always felt like a square peg trying to fit myself into a round hole actually helps. Knowing the 'why' of things is comforting in and of itself, and gives me strength. The solutions to this thing called 'life' aren't always apparent, but life wouldn't be a learning curve if everything was just handed to us, would it?


	3. I Was Scared

AN: I don't much know what to say about this chapter. It's pretty much 'what it says on the tin'. To the person who left a review for chapter 2: I got warm fuzzies right when I needed them, thank you so much. I'm glad you're enjoying the story. I don't have any cookies, so you get a plate of piping-hot spaghetti! Thank you.

On with the show, I guess.

~!~

 _[I Was Scared]_

 _I was scared to find out what had struck me down. I was scared of the pain, brother, and I was scared of dying._

 _I was scared to leave this world and be without you._

~!~

"for mercy's sake, bro, you're goin' to the doctor and that's that." Sans told him, dragging half the contents of his wardrobe out onto the floor before separating a few things from the rest and stuffing everything back in a giant knot. He dropped the chosen clothes on the end of Papyrus' bed, then picked up his boots, gloves and scarf, and added them to the pile. "get dressed."

Papyrus pushed himself up slowly, his arms trembling with the effort, and once he was sitting he paused to wait for the room to stop spinning around him. He pulled his pyjamas off without enthusiasm, and made slow work of fumbling his jeans, tee-shirt and a thick winter hoodie on. He couldn't even bring himself to do something significant about Sans having matched the pale-blue denim with _brown_ and _white_. Ugh. He'd just make sure to keep the hoodie on. Blue and white worked just fine. It worked better with red, and his scarf covered up the narrow strip of tee-shirt left exposed by the hoodie's lower neckline.

"paps! move your bones!"

"This isn't necessary, brother. It's a simple cold. The doctor won't prescribe anything stronger than a box of tissues." Papyrus chuckled, though he stumbled as he crossed the living room. Sans was walking out the door, though, and didn't see him lean against the wall for a moment in order to stay upright.

"if it's anything _less_ than the flu i'll be a morning person for the rest of my life." Sans shot back, climbing into the driver's seat of their car. Papyrus wedged his far-larger frame into the vehicle with slightly more difficulty than usual. His limbs were being disagreeable about the importance of bending properly.

"Cold, flu, same thing." Papyrus shrugged.

He must have dozed off while they were driving, because all too soon they were pulling into a parking space at the clinic, then seemingly seconds later he was sitting in front of a lady who took his temperature and wanted to examine his teeth and shone an unbearably bright light in his eyesockets for a split second. Then she printed out a form and told him to take it next-door to the radiologist's office. When he returned -he took his time, his headache having become a migraine, but he'd just say he had to wait his turn- he heard Sans' voice through the door, arguing with the doctor, and there was a soft blue glow on the carpet from inside the room.

" _listen, lady, i ain't tellin' him, and neither are you. you even_ think _the word 'cancer' anywhere near him and there won't be nothin' left of this place but rubble, you got me?"_

" _I understand your concern, but-"_

" _but nothing! you've got no idea what it'll do to him, i do. he'll be dust in half an hour if we tell him. he doesn't need to know, okay? if there's nothin' that can be done, then just lemme take him home and look after him until... just lemme take him home."_

Papyrus swayed, his breaths suddenly thin and the lights overhead far too bright. He was cold and clammy despite being so warmly rugged-up, and he struggled to remain on his feet. The walls and the door refused to stay put. The doorhandle moved around when he tried to grab hold of it. His knees threatened to give out entirely, and he staggered back down the hallway until he found a piece of wall which wasn't avoiding his attempts to share its' stability.

A painting of a log cabin in an autumn forest hung opposite him. Maple leaves fell from the trees in a thousand different shades of crimson, amber, ochre and rose, dancing in the air and carpeting the ground. It was beautiful. He let himself get lost in it, the migraine slowly fading and each breath coming slightly easier than the last.

"paps, what the heck are you doin' out here?"

His brother's voice made him jump in fright and Papyrus stared at Sans for what felt like a long time. If he'd looked steamed two days ago, then he looked like he was on the verge of meltdown now. He also looked like he'd been crying.

Papyrus smiled the best he could, for Sans' sake.

"I was simply admiring this artwork, Sans. It's lovely." He answered, gesturing to the picture. Sans looked at it, at him, then at the painting again, then he drew a steadying breath and sighed deeply.

"papyrus..."

"What did the doctor say? It's an extra-mean cold and that's it, isn't it?" Papyrus prompted him, grinning. A little of the tension left Sans' body, but his expression gained a little more sadness.

"it's an extra-mean strain of the _flu_ , paps, and it's only just gotten started. she was surprised you're even walking right now." Sans said firmly. Papyrus rolled his eyelights and shrugged.

"Cold, flu." Cancer. "Same thing." He smiled again. For Sans' sake.

~!~


	4. You Were There

AN: Hey, yeah, I know the chapter is a bit late today, compared to the previous chapters, but I have not been having a good mental morning. It took a little extra effort to pull my head out of my arse and get it done, and for that, I'm sorry. For the person who reviewed the previous chapter: I'm sorry about your feels, but... I'm not gonna stop. I'm already pretty messed-up, too, so good luck improving(?) on that. Thanks for taking the time out of your day to let me know that you noticed me, however! Have some spaghetti :3 Also, I'll be cross-posting this to AO3 shortly... as soon as I stop being lazy and teach myself how to use the site. I'm sure it's simple and easy... But like I said, I'm lazy. Time for another rectal-cranial extraction, I guess. Let's get to it, shall we?

~!~

 _[You Were There]_

 _I remember being asleep, and being awake, and I remember that halfway-place that's in between. When I was asleep, there was nothing. Just darkness that didn't want to let go of me._

 _You were always there when I was awake. My big brother, fussing over me like you did when we were young._

 _You were there in that halfway-place too._

~!~

Bones smaller than his own, far cooler than his own, brought welcome relief from his migraine as they brushed across his forehead. Papyrus fought against the heavy weight of sleep, and he smiled at his brother when he finally managed to open his eyes.

"You're a morning person after all."

Sans' features were haggard, there were deep shadows in his eyesockets like he hadn't slept properly for several days, but a small smirk still appeared.

"ain't like it's never happened before." He replied. "i called undyne and told her you're sick, by the way. she said you're not getting out of your cooking lessons that easy. she's coming over this afternoon."

"Thank you, Sans." Papyrus chuckled, grateful. He started to sit up, but the migraine threatened to return in full force and instead he just made a show of nestling amongst the blankets again. "Well, since you're being the energetic one today, I'll be lazy and stay right here." Papyrus grinned cheekily.

"lazybones." Sans sniggered. "i'll go reheat your breakfast. you slept in." He said, turning away and somewhat reluctantly leaving the room.

Papyrus let himself slump when Sans was out of sight, lifting one hand and rubbing his fingertips against his temple. The migraine eased somewhat, and he tried sitting up again, this time with success. He reached for his phone, squinting at the brightness of it when the screen lit up, but he was dismayed to see that, while it _was_ morning, it was only _technically_ morning. It was five minutes to twelve.

It was Thursday, too. Sans had dragged him to the doctor on Monday. Had he really slept for three whole days?

Come to think of it, he couldn't remember getting home after visiting the doctor, or going back to bed. He was wearing his pyjamas, so he must have done all of that at some point. What had happened to Tuesday and Wednesday, though?

"Sans?" He called out, confused.

The door almost blew off its' hinges and Sans was there, tense and trembling for a moment, then he leaned casually against the doorframe.

"lemme guess; how far would i have got if you didn't call me back?" He drawled with a forced-sounding chuckle. Papyrus blinked at him, then at his phone, rethinking the desire to ask how long he'd slept for.

"No, I just noticed that my phone's battery is running out. Would you bring the charger back with you?" He asked. Sans gave an exaggerated sigh of annoyance.

"lazybones just got knighted, bro, you're sir slackoff now." He said. "sure."

Sans left again, and Papyrus put his phone aside, then lay down. The migraine really didn't want to leave him alone.

~!~

AN: Yeah... Like I said in a previous AN, I wrote this a few years ago, and it's suddenly become relevant material to me. The reason for that? My dad was diagnosed with cancer in August of 2016. He had several operations to remove it, and has undergone chemotherapy, but the cancer spread to his liver, pancreas and right kidney. Six months ago, at 5'11" and weighing around 85kg (compared to my 5'10", 60kg), he was charging around like his usual self, full of energy and keen to play a game of pool with me, watch tv and movies, and lamented not being able to work on the car with me because of the risk of a cut or scrape leading to infection, which I'm sure anyone with knowledge of how chemotherapy can impact someone's immune system will understand. He still made a great supervisor, though! But that was six months ago. Today, he's bedbound and on continuous high-end liquid painkillers delivered via a subcutaneous syringe driver, he's dropped to at least 55kg (it's not really possible to weigh him properly anymore, that's an estimate based on observation of his physical condition compared to myself) and literally looks like skin-and-bones, and there's only so long a human body can persist without having ingested anything nutritious. Dad hasn't eaten anything significant for weeks. A few bites of banana or an ice-cream here and there, yeah, but a full meal? Nope. Nothing. He won't be around for much longer. I don't know if I'm grateful to be intelligent enough to know and acknowledge these facts, or to resent my own awareness. I am lucky to have a solid -if small- circle of contacts to reach out to when the day comes, I know that much.


	5. Thank You, I'm So Tired

AN: I'm sorry this is late. Explanation at the end of the chapter. My thanks to everyone who came on this little journey with me. This was originally two chapters, but even with my Author Notes attached, they weren't long enough for me to justify separate chapters, so I combined them. More notes at the end.

~!~

 _[Thank You]_

 _On the good days, I felt like there was nothing wrong with me. I had the energy for my usual theatrics, and you sneaked terrible puns into every conversation for me to complain about._

 _On the bad days, I hid in my room and said it was a migraine. I could barely think or move, let alone get excited about anything. You could have tie-dyed my scarf and I still wouldn't have cared._

 _On the worst days, you sat with me while I slipped in and out of delerium. You held me when I could hardly breathe for the sake of the pain. You pretended not to notice my tears and just held me tighter because I needed you. You thought I didn't know you were there._

 _You were the only thing that kept me going._

~!~

Sans knelt on the kitchen floor, his fingertips scraping at his skull as he fought to stay calm. He wanted to scream and throw things. He wanted to set the world on fire for what it had done to his brother.

Papyrus still thought he had a particularly nasty case of the flu, and that was the only mercy he'd been granted in six hellish months. How much longer would he be forced to suffer? Even one more day was one day too many. Even a good one. Because it would only be another lie, he'd be crippled by pain within an hour of declaring himself well enough to go for an energetic walk, and spend the next week in a twitching stupor as the latest migraine ravaged him.

Slow footsteps made their way along the hall and Sans picked himself up off the kitchen floor, sitting at the table, his chin in the palm of his right hand and an expression of boredom all but painted onto his face as he resumed doing the dishes via magic from across the room.

"Sans, where have all the pens and paper gone?" Papyrus asked him when he appeared in the doorway. "I want to write something down before I forget it." He explained with a smile. Sans glanced into the living room, beckoned to the desk with his magic, and a few sheets of paper and a pen floated across the room and landed in Papyrus' hands. "Thank you, brother."

"how're you feelin'?" Sans asked him casually, going back to the dishes.

"A bit dizzy. I stood up a little quickly just now." Papyrus answered with a sheepish chuckle. "I think I'll have a nap once I've finished with this," he gestured to the paper and pen, "just to chase off this niggly headache, but I'd like to go to the park after lunch if the weather holds out. It's lovely outside today."

"sure." Sans answered him. "i'll do lunch at about half past eleven, then?" He suggested. Papyrus grinned.

"Sounds good."

Sans couldn't help himself, he got up and peered down the hallway as Papyrus made slow progress back to his room. Papyrus still filled the space, but he was so _frail_ now. His pyjamas sagged like a limp tent from his drooping shoulders, his once-powerful stride was no more than a shuffle, and his head hung as though his neck was tired of holding his skull up.

It just wasn't fair. Why him? What did he ever do to deserve this?

Shaking his own head in frustration, Sans hurriedly finished off the dishes then moved on to the laundry. He checked with Papyrus before going outside to hang the freshly washed clothes on the line, and Papyrus just smiled at him some more.

"It's just a headache, Sans, it's not like I'm _dying_."

Sans could hardly escape the room fast enough. He almost flung all the washing on the roof instead of hanging it out to dry, because _to hell with it_ when his brother couldn't get five minutes' relief from his pain!

But he didn't. He sorted everything from the basket and floated it up to the line with copious amounts of magic, floated pegs up there to pin everything in place, then he sighed deeply and went back inside, leaving the basket in the laundry on his way to Papyrus' room to check on his brother again. A low groan reached him even before he got there.

"you want the curtains shut so you can sleep, paps?" Sans asked him, maintaining his casual air. Papyrus didn't answer for several long seconds, sitting on the edge of his bed, and Sans stopped in front of him and simply waited.

"No, thank you, Sans." His brother finally said. Sans watched him slowly rearrange himself under the covers again, Papyrus lay down so carefully that one might have thought his bed was made of nails and acid, and without asking if he wanted the help Sans stepped forwards and pulled the covers up to tuck him in.

Of course as soon as he'd done so, Papyrus rumpled them by sitting up and pulling him into a tight hug. Sans didn't mind. If Papyrus wanted hugs, he'd get them.

"so, what were you writing?" He asked as Papyrus lay down again, seeing the pen and paper on the side-table.

"Just something I had on my mind when I woke up." Papyrus answered with a smile that was almost wistful. "It's a letter."

"can i read it?"

Papyrus' smile widened, and he reached out and clasped Sans' hand in his own.

"Sure, but I'll probably drift off while you read." He answered. "I'm so tired."

~!~

~!~

 _[I'm So Tired]_

 _I'm so very, very tired. I just can't last any longer, brother, and I'm so scared. I don't want the darkness to take me away from you._

 _But it's heavier every time it takes hold of me. I can't fight it any more. It's punishing me for lying to you, for not admitting that I overheard you arguing with the doctor that day, when you forbade her from telling me I had cancer._

 _I'm sorry. I should have told you already, but it was easier to pretend. I thought that if I just pretended it was the flu, then you would keep pretending with me and I could stay in this world with you. I can't stand the thought of being without you, Sans, I'm so afraid of being alone._

 _I'm so very afraid._

 _You're not there in the darkness, but you are there when I'm awake, and you're there when I'm in that halfway-place. I'll stay there with you for as long as I possibly can, Sans. I know I won't wake up this time._

 _Thank you, Sans. I love you._

 _Love Papyrus_

~!~

AN: So... Why this is late... Dad's been going downhill in a hurry over the last couple of days. The doctor came to visit yesterday (approx. 1230hrs AEST, 30/07/2018 ... I live in Australia and my timezone is GMT+10) and she confirmed my fears that Dad has a week or less left. I kind of lost my shit a little bit and spent most of the day in a defiant daze, like I was subconsciously convinced that "if I pretend it's not happening, then it's not happening". Like that was gonna work.  
Well, we had a bit of a scare last night, at 2055hrs (I know the exact time because I had to call the GP to come visit us) and we thought that was it. Dad was grey in the face, dark-blue/black circles around his eyes, his extremities were cold and (he'd attempted to use the commode chair beside his bed) he'd soiled himself. His head had dropped back and he was giving the ceiling a goldfish stare, barely gasping half a breath every 10-15sec. With the doc's help, we put him back to bed. I still didn't post this chapter, however, despite it being on my mind, because I couldn't quite silence a tiny, irrational nugget of paranoia which left me believing that the moment I post this last chapter, some otherworldly or supernatural 'force' or 'entity' will interpret that as a 'sign' and end it. Crazy, right?  
I still couldn't silence it though, and put myself to sleep out of sheer mental exhaustion. I woke up this morning at around 0500hrs to a horrible panting noise, and it took me a good five minutes to realise that that's what Dad's breaths sound like now. My bedroom is adjacent to his room in our house, and that is the creepiest fkn thing I have ever heard, that shallow, infrequent, wet-gasp for air. I went in to check on him, and he was flailing around like a newborn, trying to get comfortable, all the while making That Face and That Noise.  
That was 45mins ago now and he's calmed down a little bit, and I have no idea wtf to do with myself, because he's not asleep, he's literally lying there goldfish-ing at the wall, my stepmum has been keeping him company for the time being while I type this out, and... I don't know what to do next. But I'm posting this mainly in order to defeat that little lump of irrationality, and because I feel bad for not posting it 24hrs ago when I was *supposed* to.

So... Yeah. Thanks for reading, thanks for being here, and I hope your live -whoever you are- takes a turn for the better in some way, in the near future. We can all do with a little sunshine now and then.


End file.
